


Heaven and Hell

by ssa_archivist



Category: Smallville
Genre: Angst, Crossover, Futurefic, M/M, hurt-comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-04-01
Updated: 2003-04-01
Packaged: 2017-11-01 09:16:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/354853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssa_archivist/pseuds/ssa_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Duality comes in many forms.  Bruce Wayne is one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heaven and Hell

## Heaven and Hell

by Lexalot

<http://www.livejournal.com/users/marilynmoxica>

* * *

Heaven and Hell  
By: Lexalot 

Summary: Duality comes in many forms. Bruce Wayne is one of them. 

Rating: NC-17 

Disclaimer: Ownership is a bittersweet thing, especially when you're not the owner, which I am, unfortunately but most definitely, NOT! 

* * *

\--You're my angel; You're my devil too-- 

He felt the ghosts of rivers long dry imprinted upon his face. Those tears were still there inside like scars carved too deep to see, but on the surface there was a porcelain faade cemented in place, smooth and fair skin that even in his excruciating emotional turmoil was flushed with the pink hue of raw desire. While his heart was raging against a vacuum that threatened to hollow it out, his blood began to churn with wanton sexuality-as if this could compensate for the void that wrecked him. Yet this was precisely what he had in mind when he arrived at the manor this afternoon, having absconded with fruitless brooding, revived from his catatonic grief and the aimless wrath that violently preceded it. After all that wasted energy and spent sentiment, he believed he needed to be rebuilt, would benefit from the right attention, trite affection from a familiar source, and there was only one person he knew capable of such a task. He had but one beacon of comfort remaining in his life, and that beckoning candle in the dark embodying the last of his hope took the shape of an old friend in Gotham City-an irony several times over any twist of fate ever dealt him before. 

Never mind that Gotham was the least likely place for salvation to lie, and it didn't matter that Bruce was far from being an otherworldly messiah. The true cosmic joke here was that Clark had driven Lex directly into the arms of his former lover and boarding school companion, Bruce Wayne. That was how he found himself fortune's so-called fool. Clark and Bruce. His sun and his moon. Both rise, both fall, both shine, both dull-if nothing besides poetic and pointless, it was an ambiguous thought that provided him with as much solace as it did dread. 

The fine line between being close or good friends blurred beyond distinction when it came to Lex's relations with Clark and Bruce. Clark wouldn't let Lex into his world even though he eagerly welcomed Lex into his heart, and Bruce couldn't let Lex into his heart even though he vainly invited Lex into his world. Destiny fought Lex's self-proclaimed independence from it with a strange sense of humor, and there seemed to be no escaping some of its more cleverly designed pitfalls. One of the finer paradoxes it created specially for him was that the only common and constant bond Lex shared with these two unique men equally was that neither of them denied him entrance into their beds. Serendipity at its best. 

Yet he managed balance for several years, grounded in contentment and redemption by a savior named Clark Kent-Love Incarnate. 

That very core stability was in upheaval now, however, and Clark's bed, indeed Clark's love, was refused him, so naturally, he found himself in Bruce's bedroom instead. Thick arms curved about his lean frame, his slender and sinewy physique pinned beneath Bruce's heavy muscular build. Lex couldn't help but make the inevitable and morbid comparison and he absently noted that while every inch of his lost beloved was firm and toned and perfect, Clark did not have this much luscious bulk to his body-though Clark was just becoming a man at his age and he was still developing in ways Lex could scarcely fathom. 

Torment-his thoughts repeatedly drifted back to Clark and this was unacceptable. Lex was determined to claim his temporary distraction by means of Bruce, and this distancing act needed to be consummated soon, because foreplay was lacking its usual tantalizing appeal. Normally, as his beautiful and enigmatic tortured kindred, Bruce was the most logical and effective object of his lust. No one could work their charms like Bruce, but this time, despite Bruce's generous efforts, he was failing to possess Lex with his intoxicating sexuality. Lex hoped all Bruce required was a little incentive to kick into a higher gear. He breathed words which were as much a plea as a command into Bruce's ear as the man, two years his junior, hovered darkly over him. "Fuck me." 

Half a wicked smirk dawned on the lips that grazed Lex's as Bruce propped himself up on one hand and ran the other under Lex's silky inner thigh. Already lying positioned between Lex's alabaster legs, Bruce pushed the bent leg back so the folded limb pressed against Lex's side. After hesitating no more than a split second to achieve piercing eye contact with Lex, Bruce thrust forward, driving hard and deep until the whole of his impressive length was buried inside Lex. There was no mercy in the way he moved, and there had been no preparation to soften the blow. The solicited violation had been brutal with the implied assurance that more would follow. It did-teasing and sharp teeth relentless and biting on his sensitive skin, arms curling under his back to close around his shoulders from behind, pulling him down more onto the cock that speared him, leverage gained therein that keenly accentuated each swift plunge with an extra pang and a more desperate moan. Bruce was fluent in this language. Sex became him, but Bruce would never become love. 

The preposterous notion of romantic love conjured memories of Clark, and Lex realized just how jaded he had grown in the past twenty-four hours. How bittersweet his existence. He had everything and nothing, all at once. Love for Clark. Lust for Bruce. A bond with both. A life with neither. Lex couldn't decide whether this was heaven or hell, but he figured most likely it was both at the same time. 

Caught somewhere between angels and demons, Lex suddenly became acutely aware of the forthcoming bliss spreading through his veins and his flesh like an electrified wave, heat and intensity clutching him to the moment. His concentration was finally unencumbered by heady thoughts of sinners and saints as he lie firmly anchored in physical ecstasy under Bruce's bucking body. In the throes of burgeoning climax, Bruce sent his aching member slamming into Lex with the urgency for release hastening his pace and shattering his rhythm. Lex felt the adrenaline swell within him, his blood swimming in the surge that reminded him just how powerful a thing carnal pleasure could be. This was the temporary relief Lex had been awaiting, to be liberated from himself and the burdens he bore without end, to forget that which hurt too much to remember. 

When the moment came, it was over too quickly, finished as abruptly as it began, but before the grim drain crept in on him again, Lex held Bruce to him tightly for a minute longer. His fingers glided up the back of Bruce's neck to comb through his short, dark hair, and his hand guided Bruce's head down to his open lips. Hunger was still evident in his kiss when Lex made a rough exploration of Bruce's mouth. Bruce forced himself to break the kiss and he settled next to Lex, sitting up against the polished wooden headboard. Lex simply remained lying on his back, a quasi-casual air resonating from him and a pseudo-smile written upon his face. He glanced up at Bruce to see the hard line that was his mouth, not even the slightest trace of happiness or satisfaction-always that way with Bruce. 

"Why don't you smile for a change?" Lex was fishing, trying to bait a Bruce he seduced at Excelsior Boarding School, but he wasn't certain if that Bruce still lay hidden inside his old friend or not. Bruce was becoming increasingly somber and morose, darker and more distant than Lex had ever known him to be-and Bruce had been no ray of sunshine when they first met, which was the initial attraction. "You never really smile anymore." 

"I wasn't aware that I ever really smiled." His deep, guttural voice laced with his typical matter-of-fact monotone to reinforce the reality that he didn't care, not to talk, and maybe not about too much else that held so little significance. "I used to smile?" Again, the distinct inflection of lackluster conversation. 

"Yeah, on occasion, when nobody was around, and it was just us." 

There was a brief pause that bled into the room at Lex's mention of times long past. Then- 

"What happened between you and Clark?" 

Lex's gaze returned to Bruce, whose eyes were still fixed on some spot straight ahead of him, his stare detached, just like his words. Lex's question was born infused with sarcastic curiosity. "Do you care?" 

And that was the end of that conversation. Bruce reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the remote control, immediately switching on the television set in the cabinet directly opposite the bed. In some weird sense, that deflective gesture eased the tension that appeared to rise out of nowhere. Lex simply responded to Bruce's mute mood with his own. For the next half hour, the dim glow radiating from the monitor livened the room with color and sound, and they remained stagnant, surrendering their will to speak and move in favor of activity far less personal. Lex shook his head in disapproval when Bruce persisted in cruising the local news programs, and that was when Bruce decided to take the hint. 

He leaned over to replace the remote control upon the table at the bedside, baring the stark valley of his back to Lex. In doing so, he revealed something that had eluded Lex's notice during their haphazard undressing; a large bruise near the small of his back, too close to the spine, a wretched looking injury that was an ugly mix of purple and blue and yellow, measuring approximately the size of a fist or the heel of a foot-it must have been some fight, and his opponent very tough, especially to leave that kind of mark under so much armor. 

Before Bruce could lean back, Lex's hand subconsciously traveled to the dark spot upon his flesh, causing Bruce to stiffen at the unexpected touch. As Lex caressed the damaged area, Bruce relaxed a bit, twisting his head to see Lex over his shoulder. Lex's eyes rose and he gave Bruce a sad and sympathetic smile. The expression threw Bruce off guard for an instant since such tender and compassionate behavior was quite uncharacteristic of Lex. 

Holding Bruce's stare, Lex withdrew his hand from the contusion, then quietly spoke with sincere fondness and amusement. "You're crazy." 

Bruce reached out again to turn off the light and disregarded Lex's offhand comment. "Tell me something I haven't heard before." 

"I like it." That grabbed Bruce's attention. His head spun around and his body followed, and when he saw the honesty and affection in Lex's face, a genuine smile stretched across his lips, too fast for him to suppress it, born from somewhere he never really went anymore. Then, as he slid down to Lex's side, Lex rolled up next to him, and by time Lex was positioned comfortably and cast another glance up at Bruce, any trace of the grin had melted away, and the residue of any feeling or warm humanity had vanished. In the hush of the shadows, oblivion reclaimed them both. 

* * *

Cold roused him from a restless slumber. The threshold of consciousness wrestled with his comprehension. Ultimately, it was the impression of isolation that stirred his energy. He sought with his hands then his eyes, both to no avail, and that confirmed a truth he had been denying since he was awoken by the mere feel of his absence-Bruce was gone. 

Lex refrained from jumping to conclusions. He could have been anywhere; his disappearance could have meant anything. Unable to sleep, wandering the mansion, or hungry and rummaging in the kitchen, or bored and occupying himself with any number of possible activities... Something could have come up, some household problem or task that needed tending, some development with his rising endeavor known as Wayne Enterprises, perhaps some emergency... 

That train of thought was on a serious collision course, and unless Lex derailed it, he was going to lose the weakening hold on his sanity. He scrambled for the remote control, reluctantly activating the television, and before there was a picture, the sound was echoing off the cavernous walls and ceiling. A fire, something about a fire, a mounting blaze at some warehouse... Just as Lex realized this did not bode well for what had survived of his trust and optimism, the visual solidified and there he was-the news was looping footage of the mysterious 'Batman' fleeing the scene after shots had been reported. Lex's fingers wrapped around the plastic piece in his hand and squeezed as his face grew hot with an overwhelming fury. Suddenly, the anger punched through his dam and his soul flooded with the deluge. "You son of a bitch!" He shouted the curse at the top of his lungs and flung the remote into the glass monitor where it exploded in a shower of sparks. 

Meltdown-betrayal, abandonment, deception. Pain, anguish, rage-feelings that devoured him alive. First Clark. Now Bruce. It was too much for him to handle in such a short period of time. His brain was malfunctioning-he just wanted it to shutdown, or breakdown, or something to make this stop. His head, his heart he didn't need either of them. He would never know completion. Not in Heaven. Not in Hell. Just always in both places at once. Damned to be forever torn between the two. 

Lex was dressing. He was packing. He was cursing Clark and cursing Bruce. He was livid and hurrying, broken and leaving. He snatched up his things and rushed through the mansion, arriving swiftly at the entrance hall and when he approached the door, he heard a voice call out to him from behind, a vaguely pleading tone halting him in his steps. "Lex!" This was predictable. Bruce was on his way in when Lex was on his way out-it would be too much to ask that just once Lex would be on the same path with anyone and furthermore that they would be headed in the same direction. He turned his head, looked over and up, and there was Bruce on the vestibule's second-floor balcony, poised to chase after him, but at the moment, thinking the better of putting down roots where he was, having glimpsed Lex's resentment and apparent animosity. The temperature seemed to drop as a chill filled the space that surrounded Lex. Bruce could feel it, but he was resolved not to let it happen like this. "Don't leave." The request sounded half-hearted, and begged of forgiveness more than it did Lex's company. 

He spotted a red gash, freshly acquired and in the early stages of bruising, just on the edge of Bruce's mouth to the side of his jaw. Under normal circumstances, Lex would have gone to him, applied his lips to the scrape and nursed it for him, but tonight, everything had been altered, and that abrasion only served to incite his disgust and irritation to dangerous levels. 

"You promised me! 'Not tonight.' You gave me your word! But I still wake up to an empty bed! And where are you? On the fucking eleven o'clock news!" If there had been some fragile and valuable object nearby, it would have been hurled Bruce's way at this point, but there was nothing of the sort. What made it worse was that Lex's outburst was being met with maddening silence. More like Bruce to say nothing than something. Worst of all was that he didn't want to go, but he had come here vulnerable, in search of healing, and what happened only wounded him more. "I really needed you tonight." Lex's voice softened in its agony, nearly cracking from the hurt he was doubly sustaining. 

"I'm sorry." If that had been Bruce's only response, things might have turned out differently, but then, after a long pause, he continued in a frighteningly grave tone. "I don't have anything to offer you." The assessment was devastatingly grim and weighted by unfortunate accuracy. Lex glared at Bruce from the marble floor below the gallery, demanding a more acceptable explanation, but all Bruce had to say to justify his actions was the one thing Lex didn't want to hear. "This was important. I couldn't not go." 

His eyes burned with bitterness. "I hope you enjoy your night job, Bruce, because you're probably going to die doing it." Lex resumed his previous path to the door, ready to storm into the black of night with no guiding star. 

"Lex!" Bruce's appeal made Lex brake for a fleeting moment, holding only to hear Bruce say what he felt necessary and then he would depart as planned. "This is the reason." Lex furrowed his brow in confusion, not understanding Bruce's cryptic words and bleak, monotonous timbre. A question without a voice. Bruce braced himself with his hands on the banister as he leaned closer to the edge and answered him. "You wondered why I never smile. Now you know." 


End file.
